Cut Myself On Your Lips
by butimbroken
Summary: Buffy/Angelus. PWP. They fought in the rain. COMPLETE.


**I Wish They Belonged To Me. That Would Be Fun. **

**Story Idea Was Given To Me By Brit. Hope Ya Enjoy.**

There had been no signs but Angelus had sensed the brewing storm long before it hit, but he hadn't quite been prepared for the intensity of it.

The vampire had been enjoying a young male for a snack when the slayer had shown up, too late for the boy but too early for him to get a decent quicky meal. It just added to his already foul mood. Dru and Spike were getting on his last nerve the past few days. He almost didn't even want to bother with fighting her.

Almost.

It seemed she felt the same way. Not really caring but needing to burn off some anger.

He dropped the boy to the ground without a second thought then they began their dance, neither really into it but neither willing to lose either.

It was just picking up when the first clap of thunder came, followed by the unannounced rain storm from hell.

One second it was clear, next heavy, angry rain pelted down. It was harsh, cold and blinding. Within seconds he was drenched and unable to truly make anything out that wasn't directly in front of him.

Growling, Angelus lunged forward, clipping Buffy just enough to knock her backwards a good measure. She came back, fighting blindly as he until she connected, a hard blow to his face he didn't see coming until it was too late, followed by a series of kicks she managed to get in. He snarled, grabbing her wrist, putting a death lock on her, then swung her into the closest gravestone. Once again, the slayer returned. Suddenly, through the haze she was there, those green eyes flashing mad, her hands coming to push him hard in the chest. Normally, Angelus figured he might stagger back but given the mud and slick grass under his feet, he lost his footing and came crashing down to the earth with a thud. Not wasting any time though, he spun, swinging his leg and knocking her down with him. She tried to kick at him but he grabbed her leg, his neatly trimmed nails digging into her flesh, and dragged her to him. It was a struggle, both getting in a few more blows, but when he saw the opportunity, he held her down then wrapped a hand around her throat. He pushed his body on top of hers, his face came down mere inches from hers and he gave her an evil smirk as he squeezed. One of her hands had remained free, which was trying to fight him off to no avail. Her hand wrapped around the one on her throat, trying to pry him off, to hurt him, something. Then, it was suddenly on the back of his own neck, drawing him closer.

"Fuck me."

Even with his vampire hearing Angelus had barely heard her. But he had.

While he remained stunned, Buffy's hand slid from his neck, down his chest, between their bodies and into his pants. She unfastened them then reached inside, her tiny hand grabbing his throbbing cock.

Angelus jerked and moaned, looking away from her face and squinted down to where she was freeing his hardness from the leather confides. Her pink-tipped fingers were teasing him.

Growling, Angelus tightened his grip on her throat, used it as a way to lift her up, once again slamming her into a grave. This time however, he went with her. His body once again pushed hard into her, his grip loosened then and he kissed her. Both her hands now twisted in his soaked shirt, trying to somehow bring him closer.

The demon inside roared and he pushed away, glaring. The vampire jumped up and panted out unneeded breaths. Seconds later, he felt hands on his hips and a warm wetness on his dick. Growling again, he reached a hand into her tangled blonde locks and yanked her up. She was about to attack him but he spun her around, pushing her over the top of the marked stone. His hands clenched and unclenched before reaching back out to her.

Her panties were history, cast off into the rain and wind, and her skirt was flipped over her ass exposing her to the world. He repositioned her, roughly, so that she was still face down over the grave, just now she was straddling the cold stone.

Angelus slammed into her. She screamed into the howling wind and hard rain, her body lurching forward, scraping her most sensitive parts against the rough edges. Smiling, he held her down, just so, so that every time he rammed into her, she would feel it.

At first, she struggled, unable to take it, both the pain and the pleasure of it, but he didn't relent. On anything. He pounded harder than the rain falling down on them, no matter how hard the slayer tried to get out of it. Eventually, it stopped, and she became a quivering mess at his mercy.

She came, hard and fast, screaming and shaking painfully. He smirked, taking her over the edge time and time again.

It was hunger, power, lust, hatred. It was everything. And he couldn't seem to get enough.

Angelus saw stars as he shot his cold seed into her, yelling the slayer's name into the night. He could smell sex, he could smell her blood, could taste her energy running through his very own veins.

Unable to do anything else, Angelus fell backwards off of her, down to the muddy ground. Off to the side Buffy slipped off the grave and to the ground herself. Both of them panted heavily into the now silent air. The rain had left them as abruptly as it had arrived.


End file.
